


Fake Red Marks

by Pentollsin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Killing, M/M, Nightmares, One is a nice guy and the other is a disgusting asshole, Past Rape/Non-con, There are two UF Sanses here, Trauma, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), this is not nice guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentollsin/pseuds/Pentollsin
Summary: Nightmares seem so real, especially if they are based on real past events.





	Fake Red Marks

How many hours has it been since he woke up? He didn’t really know, it was hard to tell in this dark room where the only window was covered by a towel. He pulled on his restraints again, but just like before, they didn’t budge so he resorted to breathing as he felt his panic returning.

Comic was not in one of the best positions. He was laying on an old mattress with nothing on but his jacket, zipped completely down, almost his whole body is in display. He had handcuffs tightly around his wrists, which were attached to a shackle above him on the wall. His ankles were also bound together, the harsh rope irritating his bone.

He tried many things already. Screaming was quickly out of the question thanks to the piece of clothing tied around his mouth. Sitting up wasn’t an option either, unless he wanted to pop his joints out and surely dust right after. His wrists were already bruised from trying to break free and it hurt to even move them now. He tried to use his magic, but nothing worked, like it was suppressed by something, letting it coil around his body. He simply couldn’t do anything and he was more than scared by that, but ultimately, it wasn’t the situation that made him have his first panic attack, shortly after he opened his eyes. It was the fact that he knew where he was.

This was Red’s room. The trash tornado was already a big indication, but he also had been here before, mostly to hang out with his alternate self. It looked a bit more worn down than usually, but he still knew this room and was horrified by that, mostly because Red told him several times only he could get in, not even Edge was able to on his own. So only he could have put him in this position.

But Red was his drinking buddy, the one he watched the shittiest human series that fell down in their respective Garbage Dump with, and the one who essentially helped Comic get together with Edge after he threatened him with his older brother bullshit. They were just at Fell Grillby’s bar yesterday (or at least he hoped it was yesterday) ordering their usual condiments and pissing off each other just as much as Grillby. Then he went back to his universe and fell asleep, and woke up to this. But Why?!

He learnt how different Underfell was to his own universe. He knew how that place was brutal in more ways than one, and his past with Gaster and Flowey taught him not to trust in people immediately, and the Judge part of him helped in that. But he’s been knowing the other skeleton brothers for 2 years now, he trusted in them, he never thought of something like this happening! He would have seen it, Papyrus too, even before him, right? So then… why?

He had to give up dwelling on that unless he wanted to spend another 20 minutes trying to breath normally through his shaking. He wasn’t going anywhere with any of this. That’s why he had to wait for something to happen. Not that he wanted to. But it was a better option than falling asleep, which was an idea he quickly dismissed. He would rather see what was coming, than wake him up too late. That’s why his body was impossibly tense by the time he finally heard some noise outside. Footsteps that were slowly coming closer, the creaking of the stairs and finally the shuffle of sneakers that stopped in front of the door.

Comic tried to be as calm and collected as he could be, which wasn’t much. He breathed in as the door opened, a pair of red eyelights immediately focusing on him. Red stepped into the room his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed. It was more telling what was written on his face, not even trying to hide it. It was bare, filled with a sick and predatory smirk, the eyes holding a flame in them that made Comic shiver and unconsciously pull his legs closer to himself. The stare of the other wondered through his body until it finally settled on his face, and Comic had to hold back a flinch.

“Mornin’ dollface. Had a good sleep?” Red’s tone was too casual for this absurd situation, the accent he used to put up for irritating purposes seeming more natural. It was so lighthearted that Comic couldn’t help but turn his fear into anger, his own stare so intense that if looks could kill, Red would have been a pile of dust by now. Instead, Red’s smirk widened, closing the door behind him before stepping closer. “Awh, don’ be so angry at me doll, doesn’ look so good on yer face.”

Comic’s breath hitched when a hungry glint was added to Red’s expression. His chest tightened, watching the distance shorten between them, his limbs twitching just like the magic in him that coiled but couldn’t escape. He finally lost it when the other got next to the bed, his instincts pulling the strings. Comic pulled his legs up and with a quick movement, he kicked out, hitting Red straight on the hipbone. Red groaned as he fell back and for a moment, Comic was worried about the other’s HP before panic overtook his mind again and started thrashing in his bonds. He didn’t care about the pain, just that he had to escape, get out, **_get out_** before something happened because no matter if Red is or was his friend, he was tied up in the other’s bedroom, almost naked and without his magic, he needed to escape, **_JUST ESCAPE-_**

Weight settled on his bound legs, pinning them down to the bed and he opened his eyes he didn’t know he closed, just to be met with those red eyelights that bore into his mind, now just inches away from him. Red pushed his patella into his legs until it hurt, putting his weight entirely on Comic, while one hand gripped his jaw, facing him fully forward, stopping him from moving away. Comic whimpered into his makeshift gag as he heard the other let out a feral growl, wisps of magic escaping from the left eyesocket, the colour seeming tainted, sick.

“Now, that wasn’ so nice, was it?” His claws dug into Comic’s cheekbone and he bit into the gag, his bones rattling. Red’s hand started to wonder towards his shoulder, pushing away his jacket slightly and his phalanges brushing over his clavicle. “Come on, doll, a lazybones like ya shouldn’ be afraid around me. ‘m not gonna hurt ya, unless ya keep fightin’.”

Comic felt tears gathering in his eyesockets, the chuckle at the end of Red’s sentence making him sick. He felt the next panic attack only a step away from him and he couldn’t decide if he should try run away from it or jump in. He honestly didn’t know if that would make things worse or better for him and he felt a noise coming out of his mouth at that, a mixture of a whimper and a sob. This wasn’t happening, right? why would it be? This was crazy, because Red wouldn’t do something like that, and all of this wouldn’t ever happen to him, _right?_

There was a sudden touch, a stroke on his sternum that brought him back, blinking and focusing back on Red. The hand that was on his clavicle, now rested between his ribs, the movement of it making an unpleasant shiver run down his spine. As soon as Red noticed he was watching, the stroking increased and Comic’s eyes widened, horrified by how his body started to react to it, nausea hitting him as he read the other’s expression.

“Come on, doll, lemme show ya a good time.”

His mind went blank. _No. _This wasn’t happening, not now, not ever! He couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t feel how rapid his breathing had gotten, how hard his Soul buzzed in pain as he twisted around, the pulling of his wrists muted, because _this wasn’t happening, **It c a n n o t-**_

“Sans…”

The back of his mind, he heard a whisper, so familiar, but he couldn’t recognise it, not anymore. His thoughts were too tangled, his breathing too fast but not enough, his magic collecting in his own eyelight, waiting to lash out, to use it.

“Sans!”

Comic opened his eyes he didn’t know he closed, meeting with a pair of red eyelights again and his magic was finally let out. Blue flashing lights filled the room from the bone attacks in the walls and two that was pierced in the body in front of him, rattling as much as his own bones did. He put his hands on his head, trying to hold himself together against the body that was still leaning over him, and was, for some reason, seemingly bigger now.

A hand grabbed his own, and Comic whimpered, half noticing the muffled groan as his hand was pushed towards a ribcage, the static of another Soul so abrupt that it shocked his own mind, along with his hand.

“Sans, It’s me. It’s just me. No one else. Breathe. Just breathe.”

The buzzing of another Soul grounded him, pulling him towards the surface of the real world fast, the first breath burning his non-existent throat, like coming out underwater. The other Soul didn’t let him focus on anything else but that in the moment, and he took that help as much as he could, ignoring everything else but the buzz in his own body and the one he felt with his hand. But it wasn’t enough, not for long. His senses slowly broadened, his Soul grasping the intent in the air. It didn’t seem tainted, nothing harmful. It was purely protective, strong and heavy enough that he could almost taste the magic. He let it flow through his body, realising with it that his limbs weren’t tied down anymore, that he was free. That revelation was the one that made him glance up.

He tensed as he was met with red eyelights again, but he focused on the different shapes the face had instead. The skull was longer, the cheekbones sharp rather than round, a scar going through the right eye and not coming from the mouth, that had no missing teeth. The expression wore the shadow of a constant unimpressed stone face, that was now completely hidden under concern, focus and pain. But it still was something Comic recognised and welcomed with relief. Even that though, he had to make sure. He lifted his own hand up, trembling as he touched the other’s face, his scattered thoughts slowly coming together.

The moments passed and even after all this, it still hit Comic hard when the picture came together in his mind. He sat up, too quickly for him and he swayed as he dissipated his attacks, a sob leaving his body when he buried himself in Edge. He muttered sorry over and over again, like a mantra he had been saying the past month, tears coming down his face. And no matter how the embrace of the other made him feel, he was wrecked with guilt and berates against his own selfishness. Edge was hurt because of him, has been hurt the past month and no matter how well he knew that his attacks can’t damage him too much, he was still in pain because of him, more ways than one. How many times he had to endure this… And how many more times will it be?

Comic waited until he knew his voice came back somewhat, whispering between silent sobs as he put his head closer to Edge’s chest. “Where…Where is Red?”

“He teleported into the shed as soon as you started moving. We did not know if you would summon your Blasters again, and we did not want to take risks, after you hit his room with one.”

Edge didn’t ask if he wanted to see him. He knew Comic wasn’t in the right mind for that, even if it would have made both of them relax the slightest, knowing he wasn’t hurt. Comic was grateful for it, but he also hated it, not because of Edge, but because of the circumstances that led to this point.

It was his fault. Red always told him to lock down his machine, but Comic was always more open to other Alternative Universes. He just never really thought of the possibility of how similar these can be. And this choice of his let to him probably never being able to see Red like before. Because he never thought a universe so close to Underfell would find theirs and torment not just him at the end, just by being too late. He saw the guilt in Edge’s and Red’s eyes, how they blamed themselves for being too late to come help him, because they couldn’t figure out where Comic had gone to at first. And because of that, he was reminded of his own guilt, how he will never forget the expression Edge had, when he found him and the other Sans, and was left without any choice, but to kill the Monster that held an identical face as his own brother down to the bone.

Comic truly hated that Sans, especially after his death, because that caused more suffering. He hated how he couldn’t look at Red without flinching at first now. He hated how sometimes he couldn’t take Edge’s touch even, no matter how innocent and protective it was, but at the same time craved it, the safety and comfort of it. He hated the nightmares that returned over and over, and not just for him, but for Edge, who had an image burnt into his mind and now could not see accidentally hurting his brother and ending his life, no matter how impossible that was. He hated seeing Red torn, seeing how he was afraid of being close to Comic, while knowing Edge craved seeing him, just to make sure he was alright.

A dead Sans shouldn’t have this much power over them, but he did, and the only one who had been capable of making rational decisions these past weeks has been Papyrus, who shut off and locked the machine, as soon as they were back from the other Underfell. And still, nothing has changed when it came to all this.

“This couldn’t be more messed up, huh?” Sans really couldn’t help but chuckle. It was too broken, too fucked up for it for him to take it seriously. He just couldn’t, not without crying. Not that the hollow chuckle didn’t scare himself. Edge just held him tighter, starting to rock a little without saying a word.


End file.
